Do I Frighten You, Boy?
by xXSlasherXx
Summary: To Wesker, Piers is a walking reminder of Chris when he still belonged to him.


**Do I Frighten You, Boy?**

His wrists aching and bound by the shackles of the chains keeping him suspended above the floor, the toes of his boots hovering but a few tantalizing inches above the floor, Piers Nivans stirred from his battered state of unconsciousness. The darkness of the room - or whatever sort of containment chamber he was kept in - hindered his blinking eyes from taking in any details of his surroundings. Having come to, the initial registering of the overwhelming pain emanating from several portions of his body became discernible. As his senses grew limpid enough to sense past his agony, he could feel cool air wafting around his bare and bruised ribs.

Whatever sort of room he was in, it was spacious and cold. A holding cell, most likely. He was shirtless and stripped of his weapons, as he was able to indicate from feeling lighter than he usually did while on duty.

"Awake at last, boy," spoke a disembodied voice.

His body gave a startled jerk at the sound; the pain he was in halted any further movement.

Before he could demand whoever was speaking to show themself, an orange pair of glowing eyes pierced through the darkness. Piers's heart rate picked up at the owner of the eyes coming closer to him, the size of his lurid optics growing. His clothing was as black as the darkness surrounding them both, so much that it made him look like a floating evil-faced head once he was close enough to Piers.

_"Albert Wes - ?!"_

He was silenced by the returning pain that came from his sharp exclamation.

Albert sneered. Piers, so overwhelmed, didn't notice Wesker's gloved hand reaching through the darkness. He touched his sternum and slowly trailed his finger down his abused torso, his touch gentle and caressing.

"Everyone is so shocked to see me, these days," purred Wesker. "You'd think people would learn by now that I don't die so easily. I see the questioning look in your eyes, boy. Chris and his little partner certainly gave me quite the pummeling with those missles. Left me broiling in magma in a comatose state for several months - but still_ very much_ alive."

Piers's training had taught him to not crumble under intimidation or fear, but in his mind he couldn't help but hope that this was all just a hallucination resulted from blunt head trauma. The throbbing in his cranium certainly would've backed up his internal argument.

But the feeling of Wesker's breath - warm and condescending - against his neck served as the assurance that the man before him was very real.

"M-My...team..." Piers weakly rasped. "W-Where...are...?"

Wesker's teeth came into view as he grinned sadistically. "Dead. All dead. Save your captain, of course."

Eyes widened and dread shooting through him like an incensed bullet, Piers ignored whatever agony it caused him below the neck and irately headbutted Wesker. Wesker was physically unfazed by the blow, as his head didn't flinch so much as an inch, and his grin stretched a few inches wider.

Piers may as well have headbutted a stone statue; he only doubled the pain in his head.

Wesker seized Piers's chin. "So defiant. You remind me so much of him when I was his superior. I saw it from the shadows as I followed you and your comrades..."

Piers attempted to twist his chin free of Wesker's grip. "What...are you talking about?"

Wesker's lips were brushing seductively against the shell of his ear when he responded.

"Do you know...that during our days as S.T.A.R.S members, _he_ used to look at me the same way? You want to think of him as a fellow soldier, yet you look at him with such admiration...such innocence...such _longing?_"

"You don't know a damn thing about me!" Piers hissed.

"Perhaps not. I don't need to know you, boy. Chris is self-righteous and stoic. You're more experienced than Chris was at the time, but the modicum of naivety you still possess entices me like a moth to flame."

Piers wouldn't _attempt_ to understand what this psychopath was talking about. Just what did he know about his feelings regarding Chris? Admiration was not a gesture of romance or desire of any kind. Was what he said about Chris during their days as partners true or just the delusional ramblings of a deranged despot?

The way he was looking at Piers...with those glowing inhumane, soulless eyes...

"You hold sentimental worth to me, young Piers. I suppose that's the reason you still live. That...and to serve as a message to Chris that I have returned."

A shudder of unadulterated repulse vibrated down Piers's person as Wesker's tongue slid slowly up the shell of his ear, savoring the taste of his skin.

Piers weakly wriggled against his hold, but with a powerful jerk, he was staring into Wesker's incensed glare. He backhanded the bruised area of Piers's ribs and made him scream a pained scream that echoed through the cell.

"I didn't tolerate such insolence from Chris," he murderously warned. He then seized his throat, causing Piers to emit a choked gasp. "And, while it has been a while since my re-emerging, my senses still reel a tad from my nap in the magma. So it would not be wise to agitate me, boy."

_"Fuck...you..."_ he wheezed.

"Mmm...sounds fun. I'll show you how_ grown-ups_ play."

He released his throat and caressed Piers's torso, shockingly without causing any pain from his injuries. Wesker's lips left his ear and began to plant soft kisses against his neck. He then nuzzled the crook of his neck so possessively that one may have believed he had owned Piers his entire life.

Piers's face became flushed. _"Get the hell away from me!"_

"What was that you said, Piers?" he murmured against his skin. "I didn't quite catch that."

Without weapons and bound, Piers knew there was no hope in fighting the superhuman's lecherous advances. It was clear what he wanted, but he'd be damned if he was going to be forced into submission silently.

"Y'know...I've only known you for a few minutes, and already I can tell you're everything Chris describes you as."

Wesker kissed his temple. "Is that right? How lovely it is to know he still thinks of me."

Wesker closed his eyes as he pressed his forehead against Piers's, sighing lovingly - almost needily. "Ohhh...We're going to become _good_ friends, you and I, Piers. I'll take care that you writhe in ecstasy from the touch of another man before I return you to your beloved Chris. To grovel loyally at his feet like the lovesick pup you are."

Wesker stepped back and slid his black trench coat from his shoulders, carelessly letting it fall to the cement floor. Then his gloved fingers clasped the zipper of his sweater and slowly pulled it down, revealing his chiseled chest inch by inch. His bound captive helplessly closed his eyes and turned his head, not wanting to see the devil that slew his comrades shed its layers.

The shirtless Wesker cradled Piers's face in his hands and gently turned his head to face him, all the while savoring the pathetic tang of his dread. "Come, Piers, open your eyes. You may see something you like."

And then Piers felt it, the soft feeling of Wesker's lips molding gingerly into his own.

_I should be vomiting,_ thought Piers, while the tip of Wesker's tongue prodded his teeth, seeking entrance. When Wesker reached the end of his patience with the younger male's defiance, he grabbed the back of Piers's head and forced himself deeper into his mouth. Piers gagged as Wesker's tongue slithered inside and lapped every inch of the dry cavern, moistening it with his own saliva.

Wesker's free hand trailed down his captive's smooth torso once more and began to fumble with his trousers. Wesker pulled his mouth from Piers's, a thin string of saliva falling and disappearing between mouths, and pushed away the material of Piers's boxer briefs.

He whimpered as he felt his body betraying him and his manhood growing under Wesker's gloved touch._ "No...d-don't..."_

Wesker sneered against his tremoring face and relentlessly worked his hand up and down his shaft. "Do you touch yourself when you think about him?"

"No!" he desperately gasped.

Wesker began to kiss his shoulder...his neck...his chest. "He can't save you..."

Piers flinched when Wesker's teeth gently pulled at his nipple.

_"No one_ can," Wesker growled, continuing to kiss his way down Piers's body. "Your despair and helplessness - I must _taste_ it."

Wesker's breath ominously hovered around Piers before he engulfed him, moaning around him and feeling his shudders of unbidden pleasure.

His masculinity robbed from him, Piers let the bead of liquid roll down his cheek and closed his eyes.

_...Chris_.


End file.
